Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
by Fullelven
Summary: This is a contest entry for Contest 3 on Coven Collabs! Raineigh is still reeling from her fight with Anakin as Milo provides some nighttime comfort.


**Title: Slow Dancing In A Burning Room**

**Author: CarthsLostPadawan**

**Rating: NC-17 for implied sexual content**

**Universe: Blurring the Lines freeform universe that is mostly based on 24, but with outside genre characters.**

**Summary: Anakin's rage has errupted in a way it never had before leaving Raineigh injured and thinking of the cause of the arguement... Milo Pressman.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of 24, nor do I own Anakin Skywalker. Raineigh McCayle is a character of my creation though, and I would appreciate it if you didn't use her. Oh... and please don't flame this for not being realistic pairings and whatnot. We're writing a freeform collab and this is for a contest on the site.**

**Author's Note: All the required words and phrases are in _bold italics_ so you can find them easier. **

Black mascara stained a damp maroon pillowcase as Raineigh sobbed her soul into it. Anakin had left his mark well this time, leaving noticeable red dots from the impressions of his fingers and a burning in her throat that pained her with every heartbroken sharp breath.

They'd fought before, but then it had really been no big deal. Back then it had been about failed plans and broken promises; never love. _Was that what that was about? Love? _Raineigh knew the answer before the thought left her mind and shook her head in the darkness. She wasn't fooling anyone. It was about power, about control.. about _owning_ a person mind, body and soul.

And what had brought all this to fruition? Milo. Had he not tried to be a hero during the terrorist infiltration of CTU, Raineigh would have never had bothered with him at all. Sure she could have picked up the fake little crush she played out to make him feel special and to make things interesting, but that was it. At the end of the day, he would still be the obnoxious programmer with a cocky mouth; the guy who had the _balls_ to accuse her of being a mole just because she found incrimnating evidence against Hayley.

The bed sunk beside Raineigh as a fresh round of sobs broke through, a slender corded arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. Ordinarily she would have tensed, fought... Anakin had tried to make her his Padme on a couple occassions in the night and she would refuse him with an elbow to his ribs. But this time she folded, melting perfectly to fit within the sculpted warmth behind her.

"Shhh..." He calmed burrowing his face into the nape of her neck, the scruff causing shivers to spider down her spine. Her mind was a mess of emotion and turmoil, yet one bit of realization forced its way to the front. _Anakin doesn't have any facial hair_. Her body tensed and she closed her eyes, trying to use her senses to examine her nighttime assailant and looked for anything that might set him apart from the wrest of the world. Touch, breath, smell...

_**Pizza.**_

"Milo?" She questioned suddenly very aware of who was behind her. Green-hazel eyes widened as she searched for the will to move away, however the feeling of his smile on the back of her neck quelled any chance of escape from her.

"Shhh..." He repeated again bringing the hand that was resting on her stomach up to place a gentle index finger to rest on her full lips. This time his actions brought out a soft gasp that surprized her more than he and she forced herself to turn and face the man.

His soul started into her from behind intense mahogony eyes. **_"Those eyes that burn_." **Raineigh found herself murmuring, unable to keep her tingling hands from absorbing the silk softness of his cheek. And for that moment, the angel smiled and adverted his gaze bashfully, the skin beneath her touch growing a light pink.

_The prince blushes._

"Milo." Raineigh breathed letting his name fall from her lips like a blessing and a curse **_twisted_** into one. His gaze rose slowly, the pink replaced by a faint red flush. A **_lacivious_** spark shone deep in his darkening brown eyes, hypnotizing her as she lost herself in their depths.

He brushed the backs of his fingers down the side of her cheek, fire burning a trail to follow his touch to where it found a new home resting in her raven tresses. She squirmed, bringing her body closer to him as if she was attracted to the shine of his soul. Neither moved after a moment, their chests rising and falling in unison as they devoured through silent splendor.

It was he who moved first, bringing his thumb underneath her eye to catch her drying tears as he cupped her cheek, placing a small peck on her forehead. Warmth spread through her, lighting a **_vehement_** thirst within her that she had never felt before burried deep within her like a sin. In mere seconds, their mouths met in a playful dance, nibbling and tasting; testing the waters almost. It was Milo, however, who first let his tounge flick out to tease her swollen bottom lip and beg for permission for entrance which she was only too happy to give.

Her fingers worked intricately into his hair entangling them into his short waves and bringing him ever so closer to her. His kisses traveled over her cheek to her neck and then up to nibble at the tender flesh just below her earlobe, his passion growing with every reaction he drug out of her. He devoured it like a starving man, using it to fuel his next move. Raineigh wasn't submissive... she was always at least the **_surreptitious_** seductress. And here she was, drugged out of her mind from the stupor his lust left her in. She was drowing in his desire and she was all but powerless to stop it.

Her heartrate fluttered against the wind of their sensual wantonness, trying its damnedest to fly away to the shelter of her brain where logic was supposed to rule supreme. Their ravenous drive fogged over all receptors, leaving her heart to flounder restlessly and fight with the conflictions of her mind and soul. It was wrong... to be so close, to feel him lighting her so bright that she doubted the fire would ever be put out. If Anakin were to return, he'd...

"Milo..." She cried helplessly, her nails dug deep into the muscular skin of his shoulders, her eyes unable to gaze upon his as they were sewn close with pleasure.

"Shhh..." Sight or not, his unrelenting gaze drove her on a blissful journey to the land of madness where she was willing to get lost in and remain forevermore. He was under her skin, like a disease, burrowing so deep that confession couldn't bring the secret to see the light of day. But she could feel him there at her core, pulsing and vibrating and corrupting her soul.

Milo quickly became an addictive taint that Raineigh never wanted a cure to. With each kiss and manuever of desire her drove himself deeper and deeper into her very soul that she could close her eyes and feel him pulsing in her veins. What little bit of logic within her that could break through hated it, but the starved woman who controlled her subconsious now fed off the hate and craved the addiction even more.

A shower of colors danced the edges of her vision, momentarily thickening the fog before slowly starting to fade it away. She lost her sight for a second as all reasoning and brainwave entered her body like a slap in the face, his warmth draining from her with the early morning sun that now shown on her face. Raineigh's caramel skin was beaded with sweat, the sheets damp with persperation. Wiping her eyes, she peered around the horribly brightened room gaining her sight back from her subliminal sleep, trying to gain a grip on reality.

"Stay tuned for **_Jumanji_**, next on the Superstation." Raineigh groaned, clicking the mini-screen television off and setting the remote back on the matress. Anakin hadn't come home last night... Jumping from the bed, Raineigh shook her head and squared her shoulders, prepared to harden her core for another day at CTU. However, she couldn't help but let her thoughts graze back onto the all-too real dream that had possessed her like a incubus in the night. Her body still tingled, the sensations of his lips and scuff lingering on her neck and stomach. Shivering, she grabbed her towel and headed for the bathroom.

She needed to wash herself of the filth. Even if it meant scrubbing her very skin off.

-End

**((A/N: Alright, that was my story. Sorry if it was too short or too smutty. I'm really battling with making love seen more sensual that sexual... if you get my drift. Please don't flame, but feel free to read and reply! Constructive criticizm is also very VERY nice!))**


End file.
